Even Alive
by adventuresinposting
Summary: Previously a one shot - now a two shot. "Missing" scene at the beginning of season 2 between Sam confronting the demon with the colt and the Winchesters being airlifted out. Second "missing" scene in the helicopter ride from the scene to the hospital. Hurt/limping Sam and hurt Dean with a dash of hurt John.
1. Chapter 1

"Get back, or I'll kill you I swear to God."

"You won't. You're saving that bullet for someone else." The man replied snidely, his eyes turning black.

"You wanna bet." Sam retorted, cocking the Colt with a satisfying click. He didn't care that this wasn't Yellow Eyes – he wanted to kill a damn demon, to prove that they didn't rule his life. He pointed the gun straight at the heart of the black-eyed man standing where the driver's door should be.

The demon replied with a crooked grin before escaping his host in a stream of violent black smoke. The truck driver, returned to himself again, fell to his knees before raising his head with a stunned gasp. He took in the scene before him with wide, roving eyes.

"Oh my god. Oh…oh my god! Di-did I do this?!", he exclaimed, shocked at the wreckage before him. The Impala had been driven far into the field adjacent to the road the black car had been driving on before its path had been abruptly and violently intersected by an unexpected 18-wheeler. The black car now sat several feet in front of the still running engine of the truck, the scene illuminated by its headlights. Amazingly, the radio still played, an upbeat Clearance Clearwater Revival song playing eerily into the otherwise silent night. The car's frame had been compressed into an impossible shape, the roof bent up almost to a point. Glass littered the ground, sparkling in the truck's headlights. Smoke rose from under the hood. The sickening smell of burnt rubber and gasoline permeated the air, with a hint of something metallic.

Blood. It was the unmistakable smell of blood.

"Dad?" Sam painfully called out, ignoring the truck driver's panic. "Dad?!"

Sam slowly rolled his head to the right, where his father sat. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see the gentle rise and fall of his father's chest, his chin a few inches above it, still in unconsciousness. Sam huffed out a laugh of bitter relief before worry encased his heart again.

Dean.

"Dean?! DEAN?!", Sam called out hoarsely, the strain of his yelling pulling at his aching muscles.

There was no response. Dean's silence terrified Sam. He was still winded from the impact, and the pain in his neck and chest prevented him from turning around fully to see Dean in the backseat behind him. He was blind. He was blind to any knowledge of his brother's condition, and that more than any amount of physical pain caused Sam to start hyperventilating.

Suddenly the truck driver came into his line of sight, cell phone in hand.

"Hey buddy hey. You're ok. You're ok." The man laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, grounding him to reality as Sam winched in pain. His shoulder must be dislocated, having been slammed into the frame of the car by the impact. "Sorry, sorry." He loosened his grip, but left his hand where it was; perhaps he needed the contact as much as Sam did. "My name's Hank. What's your name? Where do you hurt?" Hank seemed to have regained his composure after his initial shock, and was in rescue mode. He had been in the Army before retiring to his truck-driving career. He was no stranger to acting in traumatizing situations.

"Call 911" Sam responded with, ignoring his questions.

"Already did. They're on their way but we're pretty far out and it's going to take them a little while.

I don't even know how this happened. I… I was just driving when this black smoke just came out of nowhere. And the next thing I remember is this." Hank needed the young man to understand this, that the pain his family was in was not his fault. He couldn't explain it, but he knew that he hadn't done this. Not really him anyway.

Sam gave a single nod of his head, the simple motion causing his head to swim. His long bangs were drenched in sweat across his forehead, blood trickling down one side of his face.

"What's your name son?" Hank repeated.

"Sam. Please...please can you check on my brother? Dean? Please tell me that he's at least breathing." His head pounded in tandem with his heartbeat. Sam closed his eyes against the painful throb, fighting nausea.

Sam heard Hank respond by moving, glass crunching beneath his feet, to where Dean was slumped against the passenger door. The window had shattered in the crash, but the door itself remained intact. Hank reached through the opening and placed his fingers at Dean's neck. He felt a pulse, fast and shallow, but a pulse. A deep gash decorated his forehead, blood steadily flowing. Even in the dim light cast by the truck, Hank could see the unnatural angle Dean's left leg was in. Most definitely broken. But what Hank was most worried about was the amount of blood soaking through the kid's T-shirt, glistening in the light.

"He's breathing, he's ok" Hank called out to Sam. "Well, mostly ok", Hank muttered to himself.

Sam sighed in relief. Good. Breathing was good.

Now that his most pressing questions had been answered, Sam's adrenaline was wearing off. His thoughts were heavy, and hard to pin down. But one thing was clear in his mind: Dean. Dean had already been severely injured after the Winchesters' run in with the yellow eyed demon. He had lost a lot of blood, and had been barely conscious when they were rushing to the hospital. And now with the consequences of a serious car crash added to it, Sam couldn't even fathom the extent of Dean's injuries. Sam couldn't concentrate. Not while he was trapped in the car while Dean lay helpless, just out of his reach. He could smell blood. Dean's blood. Sam shifted, trying to sit up. But the pain in his head and chest was too much, and it overwhelmed him as he moved too quickly too soon after such an impact. His vision grayed, and he fell back against the seat in unconsciousness.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

He hears someone calling his name, urging him to wake. He didn't want to. He didn't want to return to the pain and heartache that he knew reality held. But someone had other ideas, lifting his eyelid and flashing a light into his eye. Sam's eyes shot open.

"There you are. Good." A man dressed in a white EMT uniform was hovering in front of him, penlight in hand. "My name's Carl. Me and this guy"- He indicated the paramedic standing behind him- " are here to help. His name's Ben. I'm going to get you out of here, but we need to make sure your spine isn't injured first ok? Can you wiggle your toes for me man?"

Sam complied, wiggling his fingers as well to prove their functionality to the EMT before he asked. Sam wasn't the problem. Sam needed them to leave him alone and tend to his brother and father, who he knew must be much worse off than himself.

"My brother and my dad, are they ok?" Sam whispered. His throat was so dry it hurt. He hurt everywhere actually. He heard a flurry of frenzied activity behind him. Good. Dean had help. The EMTs were trying to rouse him in a similar way they had used to wake Sam up. The sun had risen now, barely, and he was able to see people moving around the scene.

"They're working on your brother. Your Dad was awake when we got here, but he passed out again when they pulled him out. He'll be ok." The EMT replied kindly "Alright we're gonna get you of here now, ok? We need you to stay awake if you can. Let us do the work."

Sam tried to nod in reply, but found his neck constrained in a cuff. He groaned in response instead.

They were ginger, but sure in their movements. He was embarrassed that he couldn't escape his prison by himself, but he was just too tired. The EMTs expertly pulled him from the wreckage, having him now sit on the edge of a stretcher. Sam's head swam as the pain in chest and shoulder clouded his vision. They laid him down, careful of his injured shoulder.

Sam slowly rolled his head to his right. The other EMTs had managed to extract Dean from the backseat, and Sam could finally see his brother.

He looked like a ghost. His face was unnaturally pale, the bright red blood leaking from a gash on his head standing out in stark contrast. Sam could see his previously gray t-shirt was now a ruddy red color, stained with the blood forced out of his body by the yellow eyed demon. An EMT and paramedic were feverishly working on him, placing an oxygen mask over his face, inserting needles, getting a blood pressure reading, covering him in blankets. Sam caught a few hurried words exchanged.

_Hematoma. Abdomen. BP 150 over 60. Pulse 125. Fractured leg. Head trauma. Unresponsive._

Sam didn't know a lot of first aid. He only knew the basic essentials their father had taught them over the years. But he knew unresponsive for a significant period of time wasn't good.

Sam was lost in the paleness of Dean's face, oblivious to the ministrations and actions of the paramedics attending him. So when he tried to sit up to get closer to Dean, he was surprised and frustrated to find himself strapped to the stretcher. He was trapped. Again. But at least this time he knew his father was fine and that he was being taken care of. But his brother- Sam couldn't get the image of Dean's pale face out of his mind. He struggled against the straps, ignoring the pain the flamed in his chest, desperate to find Dean, who had been carried out of his line of sight by some burly EMTs.

"Woah woah Sam. You need to stay still" Carl said, placing a hand on his uninjured shoulder to keep him down. "We're taking you guys in the helicopter. Needed to strap you down to keep you safe. Just stay calm."

Stay calm? No. Sam started panicking. He needed to find his brother. He started to pull in earnest against the restraints that were holding him to the stretcher.

Sam felt himself be lifted into the air; he was being carried towards the awaiting helicopter.

"Are they even alive?!" Sam shouted.

* * *

**a/n:** I enjoy writing hurt Winchesters maybe a little too much. Oh well. As long as you guys like reading it. I may add another chapter of the helicopter ride. I dunno. I'll see how I'm feeling about it.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N**__: Yup, I decided to write the helicopter scene. I have no medical training, and anything you read below is based of my educated guess and a quick Google search. I honestly would love to be more accurate in these kinds of things in my writing, so if you do have some kind of medical training please correct me._

_As always, thank you so much for reading! My writing this was inspired by your desire to read it based on reviews and follows :)_

* * *

"Are they even alive?!"

Sam's cry for an answer rang out, lost in the wind and noise from the helicopter he was being carried to. The EMTs slid his stretcher into the helicopter, maneuvering it into its allotted spot. They clicked it into the brackets in the floor of the helicopter, specially designed to quickly secure a stretcher in an emergency. Dean had already been placed in the helicopter in a similar fashion, his EMTs still tending to him. John had been flown away in a different helicopter as only two patients could fit in a helicopter at a time. He was already well on its way to the hospital, having been removed from the wrecked Impala first. When the emergency personnel had arrived on the scene, they had tended to him first, assuming he would be the worst hurt considering the truck had slammed into his side of the car. Cruelly, though, he had been the least injured, and it was quickly becoming Dean that needed the most medical attention.

"We're all secure back here Mack. Let's go!", Carl called out. His partner, Ben, slid the helicopter door shut with a bang.

"Make it quick Mack. This kid's been bleeding for a while", one of Dean's EMTs added, the note of panic in his voice hinting at Dean's critical state. The helicopter took off in a smooth motion, barely noticeable to any of its occupants.

"His name's Dean! He's not some kid", Sam spat out, not unkindly. He was still struggling against his restraints, despite the pain in his shoulder and chest, trying to keep Dean's face in his line of sight as the paramedics worked on him. A resurgence of adrenaline fueled by a desperate need for Dean to be ok was making the usually courteous young hunter aggressive. His hazel eyes, normally soft and sympathetic, were now a storm of panic, pain, and perseverance.

"Ok Sam. I'm sorry. My name is Jeff. I'm going to do everything I can to help Dean ok? But you're going to have to calm down and let us work. Yelling won't help anyone." Jeff told Sam sternly. He had kind eyes though, and briefly gripped Sam's right arm in an act of solidarity across the narrow aisle between the two stretchers.

Sam stopped struggling, realizing the truth in Jeff's words.

Jeff and the other paramedic were working feverishly to stabilize his brother, the monitors above Dean's head recording an erratic heartbeat. Sam could see Dean's quick and shallow breaths by the rise and fall of his chest. The other paramedic was cutting away Dean's bloody t-shirt, revealing large bruises and several grotesquely swollen areas. He was mystified when he could not immediately find the source of Dean's bleeding, there being no external wounds besides the one on Dean's head and the small cuts littering his arms and face. He gave Jeff a confused look, Jeff returning it when he too noticed no obvious source of all the blood on Dean's now discarded shirt. Of course, only Sam knew that a demon had forced the blood out of Dean's body in some supernatural way, leaving only bruises behind where yellow eyes had gripped Dean internally.

"Well that's a new one." The paramedic said.

Suddenly, a shrill alarm sounded as Dean's heart gave out, too little blood flowing through his system and too many hidden injuries for his body to contend with.

"DEAN. No man you can't give up on me!" Sam's shout was lost over the commands Jeff and the other paramedic were giving each other.

"Push 150 cc adrenaline."

"In."

Jeff gave it a few seconds, staring intently at the monitor as the alarm continued to sound.

"Starting CPR." The paramedic quickly angled himself and started quick compressions to Dean's chest.

Sam was helpless, and could only watch while they attempted to revive his brother. He forgot to breathe as he stared at Dean's pale face, the flat line alarm filling his ears. He couldn't lose Dean, not now. Not when they were finally starting to be brothers again.

"Still no pulse." Jeff said curtly, his fingers at Dean's neck.

The paramedic continued CPR, each compression rocking Dean's body unnaturally.

"No- Dean. Please man you gotta pull through." Sam's voice cracking with emotion, his hazel eyes starting to water.

"Pushing another 100 cc adrenaline." Jeff called out, the paramedic pausing his CPR while the drug was administered through Dean's IV line.

"Still no pulse." Jeff called out after a few seconds.

Dean seemed no more than a rag doll to Sam in that moment.

"Resuming CPR" the paramedic called out, resuming his compressions.

"Ho! There he is!" Jeff exclaimed triumphantly as Dean's heart monitor started beeping again, indicating life.

"Back into sinus rhythm. Watch him carefully now!" Jeff instructed his partner. "What's our ETA Mack?" Jeff called out urgently.

"Five minutes Jeff. I've radioed ahead latest stats. They'll be ready and waiting." Mack called back from the cockpit.

Sam was breathless, relief flooding his aching body. His brother was alive. He was fighting every instinct to get up and rush to Dean's side. Instead he tried to concentrate on calming his suddenly heavy but shallow breathing, trying to get back the air he had forgotten he needed when Dean had flatlined. The paramedic looming above him held him down, speaking words that Sam didn't hear as memories of Dean ran through his mind.

Sam and Dean Winchester had grown up together, as most siblings do. But unlike other siblings, these brothers had grown up in the supernatural world. Spurred on by their fathers fervent need for revenge against the demon that had killed their mother, the brothers had started hunting the things that go bump in the night almost before they were old enough to be scared of them. There was an easy camaraderie between Sam and Dean, forged by an unconventional lifestyle and the consequences that accompanied it. The brothers hunted together, watching each other's backs. And they stitched each other up afterwards, when injury inevitably found them. Sam could see the scars of his handiwork decorating Dean's now exposed torso lying across the aisle from him, his chest rising and falling in each breath. He was proud of being able to help his brother heal in those times. Now, though, Sam had to accept that Dean needed more than just stitches. Though the gash on his forehead really could use some, the wound still lazily bleeding.

Sam was viciously reminded of his own injuries when a sudden white hot pain hit him. He let out a strangled cry, unprepared for the unanticipated pain. Carl had been probing Sam's chest with his fingers, fully triaging him now that he had finally calmed down. They had also cut away his t-shirt, leaving Sam bare chested. He only now realized it with the cool air soothing against his white hot, aching ribs.

"Sorry Sam. Some of these are on the edge of a break, so try to stay still, ok? We don't want you puncturing a lung with a broken rib."

Sam grunted in response, his mouth clenched and his eyes shut tight in pain. He hadn't even realized how much his chest was hurting until Carl had poked him. His ribs felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer and had used his body for practice swings. His head ached and his dislocated shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat, but Sam reminded himself that the pain he was feeling was probably nothing to what Dean was going through. He was almost glad that Dean was unconscious, oblivious to the unbelievable pain his body was probably generating.

As his own pain receded, Sam turned his head to the right to see how Dean was doing. He was almost unrecognizable to Sam, his face white and blank in unconsciousness. There was no sign of the Dean that Sam knows. Jeff was near his head, keeping a close eye on a monitor that had Dean's heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen count on it.

"O2 stats are falling, blood pressure holding." Jeff called out suddenly. "I'm bagging him."

Sam watched as Jeff grabbed a torturous looking metal device and moving Dean's oxygen masks aside he inserted the contraption into his brother's mouth. With practiced hands, Jeff quickly threaded a plastic tube down Dean's throat, intubating him. Jeff bagged him, and began regular compressions of the plastic air bag, forcing air into Dean's lungs.

"O2 stats are low, but ok. Blood pressure is dropping. Push another 100 cc of cortisone. We need to keep his heat pumping until we can get some blood into him. Mack we there yet?!"

"Two min Jeff. They're ready for you." Mack called back from the cockpit.

"Good. This kid is going straight to the ER. I don't know how, but this kid's lost a lot of blood and the only place I can think for it to be is hemorrhaging inside him. He has to be prepped for the OR stat."

_Oh God Dean. Just hold on man._ Sam thought desperately.

They had only been in the air for 10 minutes, but it had felt like a lifetime to Sam. Hell, it almost had been for Dean. Sam wasn't sure how much more he could handle.

Finally, they landed on the helipad of the hospital, Dean's paramedics sprinting into action as soon as the door opened. They maneuvered him out of the helicopter, a team of nurses and doctors already there to meet them. The last Sam saw of his brother was a pale, still form with machines and IV bags lying atop his legs, various wires and tubes snaking into his body. Dean disappeared behind swinging doors, a medical team hovering around him like bees.

Sam soon followed after his brother, his own team of nurses a little less rushed considering Sam's more stable condition. They wheeled him through long halls, the sudden whiteness and motion sending a piercing pain through Sam's head. He closed his eyes against the pain, the darkness welcome.

Sam felt a sudden stopping sensation and opened his eyes to investigate.

"On three," the blond haired nurse near Sam's head said. "One, two, three" The medical team transferred Sam from the temporary EMT stretcher to a more sturdy hospital bed. The motion sent jolts of pain through Sam's ribs and shoulder, blackness edging into his sight as he cried out in pain. He couldn't help it any more. He couldn't pretend his body didn't hurt like a mother, and that he wasn't completely drained emotionally and physically. Finally settled, Sam breathed shallowly through the pain, deeper breaths now impossible as the full pain of his injured ribs made itself known.

"My brother. My dad. Are they ok?" He was breathless with pain and exhaustion, both finally taking over Sam's senses now that he had no more energy to ignore or deny them.

"Your Dads ok- he's in the OR now to remove a bullet from his leg" Sam gulped guilty at that. He had been the one to shoot his father, though at the time it had been yellow eyes. His father had begged him to shoot him in the heart in order to kill the demon. But Dean had begged Sam not to, saying there could be another way. Sam had listened to Dean. Sam always listened to Dean.

"And they're prepping your brother for surgery. Don't worry about them, ok? They're doing everything they can to help them."

The attending doctor started to gently probe Sam's chest just as Carl had earlier. His store of adrenaline gone, Sam felt every light touch like a white hot poker. White spots clouded his vision, and Sam let a strangled cry of pain past his lips before letting the quickly approaching darkness claim him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Sam woke up in a remarkably comfortable bed, eyes blinking against the bright light. He had no idea how long he had been out, but it had been at least a few hours judging by the fading sunlight streaming through the window of his hospital room. His left arm was in a sling, presumably to keep him from moving it too much after they had relocated his shoulder. An IV line snaked into his right hand, keeping him hydrated. His head still ached a bit, but it was nothing Sam couldn't handle. Something tight was around his chest, but rather than hurting him it seemed to be easing the pain in his bruised ribs.

A nurse came in just then, a smile lighting up her face when she saw Sam was awake.

"Glad to see your eyes open," she said, approaching Sam's bed. They'd miraculously found an extra long one, fit for Sam's extra long frame. Ironic that the one time Sam finds a bed he fits in is when he doesn't want to be in it. He need to find his Dad and Dean.

As if reading his mind, she answered his unspoken questions. "Your dad's out of surgery and doing fine. He's resting a room next door. Your brother is still in surgery, and I don't know his current state. But I think they're wrapping things up." She gave Sam a small, sad smile as she took his blood pressure and flashed a light in his eyes.

"All you can do for now is rest Sam" she said, reading his name of the chart hanging at the foot of his bed. She quickly checked Sam's bandages, tightly wound around his chest, holding his severely bruised ribs in place. "I'll be in to check on you in a little while. If you can stay still and rest through the night, I think they'll let you out of that bed by tomorrow morning." She gave him a small wink.

Sam let out a sigh as she left the room.

All he could do now is wait.

And maybe pray.

* * *

_**A/N**: Let me know your thoughts! Your reviews help me become a better writer. I'm also working on another story called "Damages" if you guys are interested in any Dean, Ben, and Lisa stories. *shamelessly plugs my own story in my story* _


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